


Don't Worry Your Head, Just Go to Sleep

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Love, Not Shippy, Other, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tadashi isn’t around to save Hiro from the bad guys when bot fights go awry; when things take a turn for the worst one night, Baymax is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Worry Your Head, Just Go to Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> An exploration of Hiro's emotions and unraveling after Tadashi's death and kind of ignoring him being a super hero. Not intended to be read as shippy-Hiromax, just platonic, but if you tilt your head and squint you might see some shippy-ness.

Fic: hiro goes to a botfight after tadashi’s death and gets beat up for swindling the gangsters. Baymax tends to his wounds afterwards

)

Hiro does it because he’s angry, alone, distressed, hurt—he’s falling apart from the inside out. It feels like his heart has been torn to shreds and rests, dissolving in the acid of his stomach. So much anger boils inside him that, sometimes, bot fighting isn’t enough to assuage him. Some nights, he wants to tear at his skin, he wants to cry, he wants to break down walls and get the pain out from inside him, but he _can’t_.

Hiro continues to bot fight even though he knows Tadashi wouldn’t approve. He continues bot fight because he needs the relief, and the thrill of gambling helps ease the pain.

Tadashi is gone, he’s never coming back, and Hiro simply can’t face that truth completely. So instead, he turns to the fights.

)

One stormy night, Hiro finds himself at a bot fight bigger than he’s ever been to before. The warehouse is huge, and throughout it are small battling rings set up; there’s the constant soundtrack of clanking metal, electric sparks flying, cheers and boos and bits of chatter. Hiro browses the rings, looking for someone easy but profitable. His micobot—the first one he made, the one he beat Yama with—rests in his backpack along with plenty of money.

Finally, he comes across a less crowded ring. There’s a few people gathered around, and Hiro can tell the current fight is nearly finished. Once the challenger loses, Hiro steps up and throws in his bid, takes out his bot and sets it in the middle of the ring. The robot of his opponent is bigger, and Hiro caught glimpses of the weapons it possesses.

The fight is a surprisingly easy win. Hiro almost thinks the challenger was playing _him_ instead of the other way around. When they go again—after a brief tune up for the challenger’s bot—Hiro beats the man again swiftly, taking home four times as much as he came in with. He bows his way out of the ring and starts back towards the door. A sinking feeling has settled in his stomach, and he hurries to leave. Tadashi’s old bike is waiting for him outside, a few blocks down from the warehouse.

He makes it out in one piece; it’s not until he’s not too far from the bike that a hand grips his throat and drags him into an alley. Hiro tries to scream but a hand—slippery, gloved—clamps over his mouth and forces him to take shallow breathes through his nose. Hiro can’t quite see his attackers, only the vague outlines of their bodies. It’s too dark and the neighborhood is severely lacking in streetlamps.

So much time passes before anything happens that Hiro begins to calm. The people around him, at least three but no more than five, haven’t said a word. The only reason he knows they’re still there is the sound of their combined breathing and the hand over his mouth.

He is reassured of their presence when a swift kick lands against his stomach. He coughs and lurches forward, hands coming to grasp at his middle. The hand comes away from his mouth but moves quickly to his throat again, choking him, making air a far off dream and screaming for help an even less attainable goal.

Something firm, not a fist or a foot, comes cracking against his knees. A bat, it’s a _bat_ his mind helpfully supplies, air growing thin and mind growing foggy.

There’s laughter around him as he’s shoved against the wall, the hard, damp, brick wall. One of the thugs steps on his toes—so juvenile but god does it hurt. The hand around his throat relents for a moment only to be replaced by a stinging slap across the face, following by a solid punch to the face.

Hiro makes no noise, thankful for the ability to breathe. Despite his compliance, the men don’t let up. Hiro keeps a small, semi-detailed list going in his mind of all his injuries. He’s broken, bruised, shattered, bleeding. And the hits just keep on coming.

It’s finally a right hook to the temple that has him sinking to the ground. There are murmurs around him and then footsteps taking off quickly.

Hiro lays there, in the dirty and wet alley. He can feel the mud on his face and clothes but he can’t bear to move. His whole body aches, his face is swollen and it’s hard to see. As he stays, frozen, it starts to rain. The droplets cool his fevered skin, a small relief in a sea of pain.

As he lies there, his mind wanders groggily. His mind wanders to Tadashi, and how much Hiro misses his brother. His mind wanders to his hatred for Professor Callaghan, and his hatred for Abigail. Guilt overwhelms him suddenly, as do the tears. The tears stream hot down his face, pooling on the ground and mixing with the rain.

Guilt swells inside his chest and feels like it’s trying to burst forth, to crack him open and leave him exposed for anyone to see. He sobs and shudders and writhes in physical pain and mental anguish. He cries until his throat is raw and the only noises he can make are pitchy whimpers. He stays in the alley so long he’s numb by the time Baymax finds him.

)

Hiro manages to stay conscious as Baymax scoops him up gently, delicately holding Hiro in his arms. “Hello Hiro, I am here to help.” Baymax assures softly. “Everything will be okay.”

Baymax moves slowly, until finally they reach Tadashi’s bike. Baymax somehow, Hiro isn’t sure how he’s far too out of it to really wonder, manages to climb onto the bike and settle Hiro in his arms. Hiro fades in and out of sleep as they drive home; he faintly remarks that they’re going awfully fast. Or maybe the world is still spinning from his concussion.

Baymax’s stomach is warm and lulls Hiro into deeper sleep. He’s calmed by the gentle hum of Baymax’s motor.

By the time they get home, Hiro is ready to sleep, to put the night behind him. Baymax carries him upstairs, inching quietly past Cass’ room. Rather than heading for the bedroom like Hiro anticipated, Baymax moves to the bathroom. Careful, mindful of Hiro’s injuries, he sits the boy on the edge of the tub. “Stay here.” Baymax commands.

Hiro laughs, a whistle through the gap in his teeth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replies.

Baymax blinks and nods at him, then begins gathering up some bandages. “Would you like to shower? Your body temperature is still critically low.”

Hiro shrugs and tries to hide his wince at the pain.

“I believe a shower would be best.” Baymax declares, setting the supplies on the counter and leaning past Hiro to start the water. “Will you need my help?”

“Maybe,” Hiro admits after a few minutes of silence. Steam begins to fill the bathroom so Hiro leans shakily to turn down the temperature of the water. “Stay with me?”

“Of course, Hiro. I am here.” Baymax helps Hiro to stand; Hiro lets Baymax strip him down to nothing, and lets Baymax guide him underneath the spray. “If you need my help, do not hesitate to ask. I am here.” Baymax says again.

Hiro sighs as the hot water hits him. It’s bliss, even if it’s tinged with pain. Goosebumps awake on his skin but soon the warmth takes over the chill in his bones. He sways slightly, feeling drowsy again. “Baymax,”

“Yes, Hiro?”

“I.. I think I need to lie down.”

Baymax lets out a mechanical hum, and pushes the shower curtain aside. “I will do a scan.” Hiro waits, letting himself lean into Baymax’s steadying grip. “You are clean enough. I will tend to your wounds then we may go to bed. Is that alright, Hiro?”

“Sounds great.” Hiro complies, letting himself be pulled into Baymax’s grasp and carried to his bedroom. He’s set on a bed—Tadashi’s he thinks, which is for once more comforting that painful. Baymax returns, and the bedroom door clicks shut. The only light available is the pink light coming off Baymax. Hiro enjoys the soft warmth coming off the robot, and if he had more energy he’d let the bot know how much he appreciates it.

Baymax silently bandages Hiro’s cuts, he sprays medicine along the wounds, he places icy touches on the most swollen parts, leaving his hands on bruises and bumps until the swelling fades at least a little. “You do not have any broken bones, Hiro, however you do have a few fractures and sprains. You have sustained numerous cuts and bruises, especially to the head. I believe you likely have a concussion. I suggest we sleep as soon as possible to promote the best healing.”

Hiro nods sleepily. “Sounds good to me.”

Baymax, if Hiro isn’t mistaken (though he probably is, he’s awfully out of it), makes a noise of approval. The bed dips, and Baymax curls around Hiro. “Please tell me if the heat is too much, Hiro.”

“Okay, Baymax.”

“I will wake you in a few hours to reexamine your injuries.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Hiro.”

“Good night, Baymax. And thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

 


End file.
